Alone for Christmas
by Nicole Harpe
Summary: A young Lieutenant Calavicci ends up back at Mona's Diner on Christmas eve, 19 years after his first visit. An odd and unsettling stranger changes his life forever and not necessarily for the better. Four chapters and an epilogue.
1. Remember

**Alone for Christmas**

* * *

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to **Christmas Past**. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled **'Twas the Night Before**. That one stands alone! Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all!

TDY Temporary Duty Assignment

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**Alone for Christmas**

**Chapter One - Remember  
**

Being alone wasn't the way he wanted to spend Christmas Eve, but that was the way it had been for years. There was no family around that cared what happened to him. After spending the night in Manhattan with Hannah Gretz, an old and dear friend from the orphanage days, there was nothing to keep him in New York so while others in the early morning snow and cold ran around catching trains for home and happy times, he found himself buying a ticket to go west. No reason to go west except that going east ended in the ocean. The South would be warm and even if he was alone, in his mind Christmas was still a time where snow and cold was right. As for going north, well, there was a thing as too much snow. West was the way to go. The train pulled out of Grand Central Station. Al Calavicci found his way to the Club Car and on a chilly early morning, he ordered a scotch, sat by the window, put his small duffle bag on the seat next to him, and stared out; another holiday with no reason to be jolly.

A few minutes later, the Club Car finally warmed up and he took off his overcoat. Underneath the navy jacket was a Navy uniform worn by a graduate of Annapolis, now 27 years old and supposedly going home for the holidays. His friends were with their families. For him, and his TDY at his alma mater, staying at Annapolis was possible, but he was about to be transferred to an elite flying unit, a highly specialized team of pilots who would go on missions that few would ever know about. Life in the near future would be filled with secrets. Keeping them would be easy. He was used to secrets. Most of his life was secret.

So here he was, at the beginning of a new phase in life, with no place to go. There was a little sister once, a shining light, but eight years earlier, he discovered that neglect and indifference let Trudy die from pneumonia in an institution for people with untreatable mental illness. Trouble was she had no mental illness. Her social sin was being born with Down syndrome. His eyes only saw her perfection. Thoughts of how she died didn't help his mood.

The rails took up a rhythm that sounded in his head and unconsciously started his foot tapping the floor. This was a train ride he'd taken before, one that changed his life at least for a little while. Al was seven when he and his kid sister snuck on this same train, this very early morning train and went looking for their father. They didn't get far. They were discovered and taken off the train, handed over to a woman named Mona. What he thought would be the worst day of his life turned into magic. His memories of that miracle buoyed his soul every time his sad life edged toward collapsing during those frequent times when everything went wrong.

It didn't take long to finish the scotch. Never did. The thought of alcoholism ran through his head on occasion, but that scuttled after the second drink. A porter approached and since the opportunity was there, he stopped the older African-American. "Excuse me, sir." The porter paused by his seat. "If you don't mind, I could use another scotch." He pulled out his wallet and handed the porter a five dollar bill. The gentleman took the bill and just stood there. Al looked at the kind face. "I'm sorry. I thought you were working on this car. My mistake."

The porter smiled like a proud father watching his son graduate from college. "Sir, your last name is Calavicci. I can see it on case there." He pointed to Al's bag.

"Yeah, that's my name," Al looked for the porter's nametag, "Halsey." His breath stopped in his throat. "Halsey?

Though it didn't seem like a possibility, Halsey's grin got bigger. "That's me."

This ghost from his Christmas past smiled down on his lonely self. He buried his head in his hands. "I don't believe it." Looking up, he said, "Are you really Halsey from when I was a kid?"

"Yes, sir, I believe I am."

Al jumped to his feet. "I don't believe it. You're still working on this same line."

"Never left, sir."

"You can stop the 'sir', stuff. Damn, it has to be . . ." Al wasn't sure of the years.

"Nineteen years ago today, in 1941."

Astonished eyes stared at the porter. "You remember that?"

"I always think about you and Trudy, especially on Christmas Eve." He looked around the Club Car. "In fact, you're sitting in the same seat I found you in all those years ago."

"Can you sit a little while? I don't want to get you in trouble."

Halsey laughed. "Don't think I'd get in much trouble. I'm the Chief Porter on this train." Al sat back down still giddy. It made Halsey laugh. "You're even now that little boy. I can see it. Let me get your drink and I'll be right back."

He didn't want Halsey waiting on him. "No, no, I can get it."

A friendly finger pointed at him. "You stay put now, Albert. I'll be a minute."

Al let him go and for the first time in years, he thought he just might have a good holiday. Whispering to the window he murmured, "Maybe it won't be so bad this year." Fighter pilots don't get weepy so he wiped away anything that might look like a tear, took out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. Halsey came back and sat across from him. The porter handed him a cup of coffee. "That's not scotch."

"And it's barely eight in the morning. It's too early in the day for you to be drinking scotch."

He wanted his scotch. "I'm all grown up now."

"Well, you look grown up, but you aren't acting it. Grownups don't drink scotch for breakfast. You're drinking coffee." Somehow, being chastised by this ghost from his past was okay. The words were spoken out of concern and caring. "And I'm hearing bad things about smoking now. You're still young enough to break the habit."

Al ground the cig out in the tiny ashtray at his elbow. "Yeah, I'm hearing the same things, but who the hell knows how long any of us will live."

It hurt the gentle man. The little boy with the giant cynical outlook had grown into the size of his cynicism and it saddened him. "That's kind of pessimistic for a young man, isn't it?"

He was caught and covered with, "It goes with the job."

Halsey looked at the distinguished uniform Al wore and his head nodded up and down in pride. "You're in the Navy. Good for you! and you're an officer! I knew you'd do something good with your life."

The coffee burned his lips, but he took a gulp. "Glad someone knew. I sure as hell didn't think so." Hot coffee mixed with cold scotch isn't a good combination. "Do I have to drink this?"

Halsey didn't answer which Al recognized as an insistence that he down the coffee. The porter's eyes smiled bright. "I still think of you as that skinny little boy with too much of the world on his shoulders, needing someone to take care of you." The conversation stopped and Halsey knew from the tragic look on the young Lieutenant's face that Al's life spawned ugliness few could imagine. He changed the subject. "How's that sweet little sister of yours? She was such a beautiful child."

Rattling off the truth without emotion, he said, "Trudy died of pneumonia seven years ago."

His face twisted in pain. "No, not that precious life."

Al looked at e first person to demonstrate any sign of grief over the death of his dear sister. "They didn't bother to tell me she was sick." The anger in his heart surfaced immediately. "They didn't even bother to tell me she was dead until I went to get her out of there."

Halsey took a strikingly white handkerchief from his pocket and touched his eyes. "That's not right. That child adored you."

"She adored everybody. It was her way." Al squirmed. He learned years ago that crying was unacceptable behavior and even if she was the only steady person in his life, Trudy's death was old news and nothing could change it. That didn't mean he missed her any less or loved her any less. It simply showed the world that Al Calavicci could not be broken regardless of the hurt.

The handkerchief slipped back into Halsey's breast pocket. "Sweet child, that little one was such a sweet child. I'm sorry, Al. That had to be hard for you."

Trudy died during his second year at Annapolis. He wasn't going to be able to keep a home for her and stay in school, but the decision, while painful, was immediate. Trudy came first. As it was, Trudy, in her death, gave him the gift of a college education. The sacrifice his younger sister made for him was the ultimate gift, just like the one that he remembered hearing about in church the one time he paid attention. The priest said there was no greater love than laying down one's life for another. He opted not to say more about it to Halsey. That sadness didn't need to be resurrected again. Instead, he turned toward the window and took in the scenery rather than stare into the past.

Halsey put his hand on Al's knee. "Son, you're on this train for a reason. You need to be with family right now. I think you need to get off the train when we get to Philadelphia. Miss Mona still has the diner."

For a fraction of a second, he was seven years old and Santa Claus put the best train in the world under his Christmas tree. A smile and an instant of naïveté graced his world and it was just enough to slightly alter the color of this sad holiday. "Really? I'd love to see her again."

"Are you going that far?"

His destination was Chicago, but all of a sudden, Philadelphia sounded good. "I planned on going farther, but I think I'll take a sure thing."

Halsey wasn't sure what his young friend meant, but he didn't bother worrying about it. He delighted in knowing Al would be in the care of Miss Mona again. "Good, good, Mona will be happy to see you. I know that for certain." He sat back pleased with the decision. The boy Albert was going to Miss Mona's. "Yes, sir, she will be very happy."

Al smiled a true smile and his mind drifted to that time 19 years earlier when a life that held nothing but hurt and pain, for a few moments became perfect and pure. A quiet voice in his mind sang "There's a somebody I'm longing to see . . ." and he recalled his first dance with his first crush. She told him, _"You have the key to my heart, little one. Every time you think no one cares, remember **Mona's Diner**."_ Christmas maybe wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Halsey left Al to consider all the potential his holiday was going to hold. As the morning lit the passing countryside, snow began to fall and a layer of white covered all the blemishes the world had and left only the impression of a world filled with truth and love.

A few hours later, the locomotive slowed the train down and stopped in Philadelphia. About a dozen people disembarked the train and with suitcases in hand moved toward the station house. A few others seemed as lost as Al. Halsey stood with the grown little boy on the platform, still a tall man that Al literally had to look up to see. "You know, when I was a kid, I thought you were bigger than Paul Bunyan. I think I may have been right."

Halsey laughed. "Paul Bunyan was a white man from Minnesota. Somehow, I don't think I'm much like him."

Al kicked a little at the snow covered platform. He was seven again. "I never thanked you for what you did for me and Trudy. She had the best holiday and then when our father showed up, well, that was amazing. You started all that for us. We never had another Christmas as good as that one, never."

"Life can't be handfuls of what happened yesterday. Keep looking to tomorrow, Albert. You got to keep expecting the next year to be better than the one you just had."

It amazed Al that a grown man could still think life got better and better. To him, it simply got longer and longer. "You're one of a kind, Halsey."

"I sure hope not, boy. I hope not." The man's arms embraced the Navy pilot and held on tight. "You be careful when you're flying those planes. No need for you to be doing anything dangerous now, understand?" Al nodded. "Good. Come back and see me sometime."

"I promise"

With a grin that shone with wisdom, Halsey quoted, "'Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted that I would ever come back.'"

"Robert Frost. I like that poem."

"Tell Miss Mona I said hello." Halsey jumped back on the train and waved. "Merry Christmas, Albert! Merry Christmas!"

Al waved back and stood next to his bag. He and one other person remained on the platform, two lost souls. The train was completely out of sight before he dared to move. Suddenly the chill in the air nipped at his face a little harder and he felt cold and alone again, cold and completely alone. Picking up his bag reinforced his opinion that his fate was to remain a nomad. Despite the isolation in his heart, he walked in the direction of Miss Mona's Diner - at least he thought it was in the direction he headed. Nineteen years has a way of dimming memories.

He liked walking even if the snow was biting at his face. Movement had purpose, keeping his body fit and giving his mind time to ask questions about things that he couldn't talk about with anyone he knew. His pilot buddies were bright, but their interests tended to end with broads and breaking mach two. He wanted to know how to fly to the moon. Computers had to get involved, but they needed to get smaller. Often he tried to figure out exactly what "time" was and how to measure it in Einstein's universe and if time could bend a little, then maybe traveling to other galaxies would be possible within a man's lifetime. Back on earth there was that guy Castro. Things were going to get heavy pretty soon. And who knows what kind of mess southeast Asia was going to turn into. His friends told him he thought too much, but he didn't know how that was possible. Thinking beyond his own existence kept a part of him alive, the part that was able to rise above all the hell he'd been through. Maybe those who dismissed his bouts of thinking just didn't realize that the future belonged to those who thought about such things.

Snow fell harder and the morning sky darkened. Al found himself winding through city streets, ending up across the street from **Mona's Diner**. Seeing it stopped him in his tracks. Taking those last few steps suddenly became really, really hard. The memory of that time with Mona had taken on a mystical aura. For the small boy, it morphed into magic, into events that had no basis in reality. Christmas trees don't decorate themselves. Lighted stars don't appear at the top for no reason. His mind was doing that thinking thing and it was convincing him not to go in. No reason to blow apart the fantasy he treasured.

As he turned away from the memory, he watched a woman start to cross the street. Her steps faltered a bit probably because she'd been drinking already. He stopped judging other drinkers since he started on his scotch pretty early himself. She didn't seem to see the car coming toward her, but then the driver didn't seem to see her either. There was nothing else to do but run as fast as he could and pull her back. The car whiffed by so closely that his open coat was slapped by the bumper. The woman landed on the ground and the car sped off not caring that it almost killed two people.

Al turned his attention to the woman who seemed slightly dazed by the close encounter with the careless driver. He dropped down on his knees next to her. "Ma'am, are you okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fall."

The woman was shaking. She looked at Al, but her vision was blurred and the incident scared her. "No, no, I should be sorry. That car could have killed you. Are you alright?"

His smile could melt any woman's heart - at least that's what he'd been told - so he gave it a shot as he took her hand. "I'm fine." Her hands still shook. "Should I call for help?"

The quivering was unintentional and had nothing to do with the near accident. "Oh, you mean the trembles? Honey, that's just me. I'm the shaking queen." A small group was gathering around them and the woman was not interested in having a bigger crowd turn out. Most were out alone just like Al and the unfortunate woman who was unceremoniously still sitting on her rear end. "Honey, if you help me up here, I'll be on my way."

He liked her, a tough old broad, unapologetic for her shortcomings. "Yes, ma'am." Gently holding her hands, he helped her up. "There you go. Be careful crossing streets from now on."

Once she regained her composure and salvaged some dignity, she also smiled. Noticing his uniform she said, "Are you on furlough, on your way home for the holidays?"

"No, ma'am. I was just wandering around."

"That's not right. No one should be wandering around at Christmastime. Let me buy you a cup of coffee and the best cheeseburger you've ever had." She pointed across the street. "That's Mona's Diner and you won't find the food better anywhere else in the world. She's a great cook and her cheeseburgers are the stuff of legends."

Mona's hamburgers were wonderful. He thought about that first bite he took back in 1941. It was the best food he'd ever eaten. "I've had one of Mona's cheeseburgers. They're good, but I'm not sure about going in."

"Why not?" She joked with him, "You're not going to tell me you think you're too great an officer to go into a little diner like Mona's, are you?"

There was no conceit in him about the diner. It was facing Mona and telling her Trudy was dead and that he was still a homeless little boy needing a hand-out during the holidays. "No, ma'am, that's not it. Miss Mona has the best diner I've ever been in. It's just . . ." He wasn't sure how to explain it without telling her a very long story. "I haven't seen her in 19 years and I don't think I can go in right now."

The woman looked at him and looked again and stared for a bit and then put a quaking hand on his face. "My goodness, it's you. Al, it's you."

His heart started beating a little too fast. "I'm sorry. I don't know you, do I?"

Despite the shaking in her limbs, she sang with quiet strength. "Yet what I can I give him: give my heart."

He never would have recognized her. The voice he heard belonged to a young, red-head that Mona described as a little loud, but always entertaining. "Miss Gracie."

"You remembered. Al, I can't believe you're here." She embraced him with such tenderness. "You have to come in to see Mona. She would be so upset if you didn't come in."

The idea of fate wasn't his thing, but this was weird. Halsey finds him and then Gracie finds him. Destiny worked overtime to get him inside Mona's Diner. There was no turning away now. It pained him to see the woman that he recalled as young and vivacious shaking from some sort of disorder he didn't recognize. "I guess someone has to get you across the street safely." He smiled at her.

"Yeah, I don't see things as well as I used to, but you still have that smile. It's one of the things I remembered most about you." Coming close to his face, she stared into his eyes. "Chocolate brown, just like milk chocolate. So handsome now." She took his hand. "Come on, Mona will be happy to see you, so very, very happy!"

A duffle in one hand and Gracie in the other, Al prepared to walk across the street knowing he had to face Miss Mona. His life felt like such a failure and he was embarrassed to see her. There was nothing accomplished yet and she held such hope for him. His fiasco of a life was about to slap him in the face, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Traffic is clear. You ready?"

She held his arm, completely delighted that she was bringing Mona the best Christmas gift ever. "Lead on, Mac Duff."

As they crossed safely, Al said, "So you read Shakespeare."

"Apparently, so do you. That's good."

* * *


	2. Love

**Alone for Christmas**

* * *

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to **Christmas Past**. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled **'Twas the Night Before**. That one stands alone. Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all.

* * *

**Alone for Christmas**

**Chapter Two - Love**

Gracie and Al stepped up onto the pavement and walked the ten feet to the diner's front door. The sparkly older woman whispered to him, "Oh, let me go in first, okay?"

Her delight gave Al a feeling of belonging. Gracie said she was proud of him. Those were words he hadn't heard since his father died 17 years earlier. Now, she wanted to go in first to present him as the best surprise she knew. The smile was real and the surge of pride was as well. "Okay, you go in first and I'll be right behind you."

Gracie opened the door into the diner and just as she had so many years earlier, announced her presence. She meant for everyone to hear when she proclaimed, "This is the day, people! This is the day for miracles and I brought one with me!"

Mona was behind her counter cooking up hamburgers, grilled cheese, some really good fries and whatever else the half dozen people in the diner had ordered. She turned with a huge grin on her face. "Gracie! You made it. I've been waiting for you."

Al kept his face to the floor though he wasn't sure Mona would recognize him so many years later. Gracie teased, "Who else have you been waiting for?"

Wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her waistband, she thought, "Well, Deuce is supposed to show up."

"Not Deuce. Who else, Mona? Who have you waited for since 1941?" Gracie pulled Al in front of her. "Who do you think grew up to be the most handsome young Naval officer I've seen in nearly thirty years?"

Mona stared for a few seconds and while no one thought it possible, her smile got bigger. "Just tell me it's you!"

He blushed like a school boy, took off his uniform hat and said, "Hello, Miss Mona."

She dashed out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her waistband. "My goodness gracious, my goodness gracious! This is the best Christmas present I have ever gotten."

The lost boy, who, like Peter Pan, didn't ever seem to grow up, fell into her embrace. "If that's the case, then you've had some sorry Christmas gifts."

Looking into his eyes she smiled, "Well, maybe the second best."

It was fun having this silly banter. With feigned dejection, he whined, "So soon I get put back to second?"

"The best Christmas present was a pair of little children who visited me 19 years ago today." Her gentle hand ran over his military haircut. "What happened to those beautiful curls?"

In his eyes, _those beautiful curls_ were a personal agony that thankfully the Navy didn't want any more than he did. "The military frowns on curls."

From behind her, she heard a customer call out, "Hey, Mona, you're burning my burger!"

Her finger wagged in his face. "Take off your coat and don't you go anywhere. We have nearly two decades to catch up on."

She took off toward the grill as Al and Gracie made their way toward the coat rack. Gracie was still all smiles. "Told you she'd be happy to see you."

Al hung Gracie's coat and then his own, and even though he mumbled, Gracie heard him say, "Someone has to be."

Once again, she touched his face with her hands shaking from whatever ailment she was fighting. "You go talk to Mona. I'm going to see what Jack is doing." Gracie nodded toward a booth where a lone man sat taking his time with a sandwich. "Would you ask Mona to bring me a cup of joe?"

The attitude was there, but Miss Gracie's body was failing her. He didn't like medical stuff. It never did him any good. Medical stuff killed his father and sister. Medical stuff was ugly and he hated seeing it now in this woman who sang just for him that night. "I'll get the coffee for you."

As he walked toward the counter, the diner's patrons stared at him. Searching into his memory, he hoped he might recognize Mrs. Zimmer. Off to the side a senior citizen couple and two suitcases took up the booth where Al and Trudy shared their first taste of hot chocolate. The flash gave Trudy back to him, but the horrifying moment he learned of her death wiped that sweet thought away in a second.

Pulling himself as tall as possible, Al looked capable and strong in his dress blues, his wings proudly worn over his breast pocket, a confident pilot, the future of America, but in his head, it was all fraud. His acting skills got him through all sorts of things in life. Pretending to be self-assured and bright got him an Annapolis Scholarship, bought his way into Flight School, and put him on the fast track to promotion. It was difficult living with the knowledge that any day now, he'd be found out and the Navy would bid him farewell. Odd thoughts at this time. These people knew him at one of the lowest points in his life. He decided to be honest with Mona, at least try to be. He sat across from the grill and decided that this wasn't the moment to start. So, he said, "This time I can pay my tab."

Flipping burgers was second nature to her so it was easy to talk to her young friend and tend to her orders. "Who said I would have any serviceman pay to eat here? All of you eat and drink free." She plated the cheeseburger, dropped a load of fries next to it and placed it in front of him. "You like cheeseburgers if my memory serves me." Reaching past him down the counter, she grabbed a bottle, "With ketchup."

Bells on the front door announced the entrance of another customer. Al turned to see a man enter the diner, a sullen guy, maybe 60 years old. Without taking his eyes from the newcomer Al admitted, "Yeah, that's the way I like them, but I need to bring some coffee to Miss Gracie first."

Mona patted his hand. "I'll bring it to her. You eat. You're way too skinny. I think you're even skinnier now than you were when you were seven." She grabbed a coffeepot and kept talking. "And after you're done with that burger, I got some pumpkin pie for you." She started across the diner still talking. "Then we have to get you some hot chocolate."

The burger was there asking to be enjoyed. He obliged with a bite that was too big, but he was a grown man now and hungrier than he thought.

After dropping off a menu for the newcomer, Mona almost danced to the table across the room. Gracie's booth-mate Jack put down a five dollar bill and waved good-bye. Mona poured coffee from the clear pot into a sturdy ceramic mug and sat next to Gracie. "Can you believe that he's come back?"

"He's still a lonely little boy, Mona, a very lonely little boy." Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "It's his heart. It's been broken too often. I don't know if you can find a big enough miracle for him this time."

"Not sure a miracle is what he needs." She left the coffee on the table. "When that gets cold, let me know. I'll brew you a fresh pot."

Al almost finished his cheeseburger by the time Mona took her place behind the counter. "You really do make the best burgers."

"Don't eat so fast. You'll make yourself sick." She took off to take the order of her new customer.

Packing the burger away so quickly got Al to thinking about St. Paul's Orphanage. Growing up in that environment, he learned to eat quickly and to grab any leftovers from his buddies, not that leftovers were common. They ate three meals a day. Nothing good. Nothing with flavor. Whatever was easiest to prepare for over 100 children, that was dinner. The year he spent living on the streets didn't break his habit of eating fast. He ate when he found something worth the effort of dumpster diving and finished it before someone hungrier than him stole it from his hands. When his stint as an actor fed his wallet, he fed his belly, but not much more than that. There was no place for him to stay unless his theater friends brought him to their places. For some reason, people didn't mind him sleeping on their couch nearly as much as they minded paying for meals. His one shot at good luck surfaced when Jacob Javits came backstage at **_The King and I_**. Seventeen-year-old Al understudied Chululongkorn, the boy prince. Javits came backstage after one of the few times Al was onstage in that role. The upcoming New York politician was taken with the teen who looked much younger than his years and even more impressed with the young man's request for help to get into the Naval Academy. With the future senator by his side, Al won his scholarship into Annapolis fueled by his straight-A average, his graduation from high school at 16, his self-sufficiency, his intense need to learn, and an insistent recommendation from the kindly senior representative from the State of New York.

All those thoughts ran through his head at one time. He didn't want to lament his life, but he couldn't help it. Things were maybe going to turn out okay and he wanted to be appreciative. Just got hard to do that sometimes, especially around holidays when people looked to family for love and support. He had no one to look to. A smile crossed his face. Maybe he did have someone. Here he was with Mona again and while he didn't want to get hopes up, he couldn't help but feel he was going to be safe. If only for a short time, he was in this place that changed his life and eating his favorite meal.

"Miss Mona, you make the best burgers. Can I have another?"

The diner owner looked at her boy, at least she thought of him in those terms. His young face was so handsome, but instead of seeing youthful exuberance in his eyes, she saw the vacant pain of abandonment and loss. Too much had happened to him and it hurt her heart. Her warm hands took his and she peered into an emptiness that troubled her. "You can have anything you want, Al. Don't you know that yet?"

People seemed to expect things from him. He never could figure out why, but they did. In most cases, he didn't care, but this was Miss Mona and she wasn't like other people. "You keep thinking I'm a lot more than I really am."

"That's not true. You're just what I think you are and I'm so happy you're here. I've missed you and Trudy."

The time had come, the time he dreaded. "Trudy," he turned his face to the floor, "Trudy is dead. It's been eight years now."

Mona went to Al's side and held onto him. "Oh no. Poor Al, I know how much you loved her."

He hadn't had a tear for years and he wasn't going to start now. "It's all in the past."

The aluminum napkin dispenser was just beyond her reach so she moved back behind the counter and found a tissue to dab her eyes. "A loss like that is never really past. You and your father must have been devastated."

His father? He hadn't considered that as news for Mona. She didn't know that he was gone, too. "He never knew about it. Our father died in 1944, when I was ten. He had a brain tumor."

Mona put another hamburger on her grill for her boy. The last time she saw Al, Trudy and their father, the trio practically danced down a snow-covered Christmas sidewalk, off to have a day filled with the hope a loving family provides. Now she learns Al's truth. The life she wanted for him was not the life he had. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. I don't what to say to you."

Most people didn't. Most people told him he was courageous and strong. After the life he led, they were amazed he wasn't in prison somewhere rotting away. He hated their assumptions about him; that a kid with his history would have to be on his way to jail. Feeling sorry was a trap he worked hard to avoid. There were times when he was successful, but right now, he had someone whom he knew would allow him to cry and be the child he wanted to be. However, he wasn't a child. He was a Navy pilot, an Annapolis graduate working to become an astronaut in his country's space program. A man able to fly a space craft can't be crying about things in the past. "There isn't anything to say. People die."

She realized a fib when she heard one, but she wasn't going to call him on it. He was still trying to be confident and when he needed to talk more about it, she knew he would. The burger needed attention and she used that as a ruse to change subjects. "You know, Deuce is coming by soon."

"I heard you tell Miss Gracie. How is he doing? Wasn't he homeless?"

"Well, he used to say the streets were his home, but he started getting fed up with that life. It was hard, but he got hooked up with the Salvation Army. They helped him get training and he's an auto mechanic now. Can you believe it?"

"That's great. We'll have a lot to talk about. I like working on cars."

Mona served the second cheeseburger and Al picked it up before sound of the plate rattling on the counter stopped sounding out. She laughed, "When was the last time you ate?"

A light blush colored his cheeks. He garbled out, "Sorry." After gulping his first bite, he looked up into her eyes and the need to be a child surfaced. She was the only one who expected him to be the best he could be and to do that for himself, no one else. Mona wasn't concerned about the money Annapolis invested in his career. It didn't concern Miss Mona at all that the Navy wanted was for him to be a good military man. That was their expectation. Mona wanted his success to be there for him and he believed he was falling far short. "Miss Mona," and words failed him. All he could say was, "I'm really glad to see you."

A lost soul, a forgotten spirit, a life in need of caring, Al Calavicci needed love and it wasn't his to have. Mona knew that the instant she saw him. There was a time 19 years earlier when she managed to give him a few days of hope. This visit would demand she find him more than mere days of hope. His future would depend on it.

The door opened and a Christmas tree entered. Holding on to the far end was another old friend. Just as he had 19 years earlier, Deuce carried in the tree. "Hey, Mona, I need a hand here. You want this in the same place like usual?"

"You know it, Deuce and I got someone here who can help out."

Al already moved off the counter seat and had to smile. When he'd met Deuce the first time, the scruffy man frightened him a little. Now, his adult eyes saw things very differently. At only five feet six, Al spent a lot of time looking up to people, but Deuce didn't even make five four. "That's a lot of tree you got there, Deuce."

Looking at the young man in uniform Deuce just smiled and said, "If that's the case, then get your little private butt over here and help me out."

"Yes, sir." The grin he had was bigger than he'd felt on his face for a long time. "But I'll have you know, I'm not a private. I'm not even Army." The tree had to be over seven feet tall. "How did you manage to carry this thing?"

"By not making excuses that 'I'm not even Army.'" Now Deuce grinned as big as Al. "Now, if your honor sir would like to help, I'd appreciate it."

"Yes, sir." Moving to the rear, Al took up the heavier part of the tree and let Deuce relax a little.

The mechanic had to keep teasing this nice kid. "Marines teach you to be that polite?"

The teasing wasn't going to stop. "Me, a jar head? I have better taste than that. Miss Mona made sure of it." They righted the evergreen in the same place Al remembered his magic tree appeared 19 years earlier. He still had trouble believing the lights, the ornaments, the small gift for Trudy miraculously materializing. Long ago, he convinced himself that the miracles were just a small boy's explanation of things unseen, but he wished the tree would suddenly glow with colors and a bright star would shine from the very top. In any case, the tree made the diner feel more like that special place in his memory. Turning his attention to Deuce, he kept up the banter. "You got us a huge tree, Deuce. Last one I saw here wasn't nearly this tall."

"Last one? I don't remember any Coast Guard being here before."

He had to laugh again. "Now you're making me a Guard? Next you'll be accusing me of being a junior bird man and, trust me, I'm not Air Force. Those boys don't know the first thing about flying."

Deuce looked at the kid who kept playing the game and laughed back. "So you must be Navy, a pilot I guess." He pointed to the medal over Al's pocket. "At least they don't usually give wings to men who can't fly." A calloused, slightly motor-oiled hand reached out. "Good to see you, kid." Looking down at his fingers after the handshake, he added, "I washed them really good before I left, too. I just can't get this grime off no matter how hard I scrub. Mona don't like dirty hands at her counter." Rubbing his hands together, he looked Al in the eye asking, "Now, how have you been the last 19 years?"

Stunned silence, just completely stunned silence. Al found his voice and mumbled, "I don't believe it. You remember me?"

"The little tough guy who reads Dickens? Yeah, I remember you. I wasn't wasted back then, just homeless." Making his way past Al, Deuce sat at the counter. "Mona, got some chicken soup for me?"

The ladle dipped into the steaming cauldron. "Always, Deuce." She placed it in front of her old friend. "Surprised to see Al?"

Deuce looked back at the boy who'd grown into a man. "A little," he pointed a bony finger at Al, "but I figured you'd be back someday. Everyone comes back to Mona's."

Playfully Mona tapped Deuce's other hand. "Some never leave!"

Laughing Deuce told her, "Yeah, well, now that I'm a paying customer, you don't want to get rid of me, do you?" Then he pointed to the front door, "And I'm not sure you're getting rid of anyone today. The weather is getting bad. I hear we're close to getting snowed in."

Al gazed out the window. The snow swirled so hard that he couldn't even see across the street. "Looks like I bring blizzards with me. Maybe I'm bad luck." It wouldn't be the first time he thought of himself in those terms. Bad luck was his best friend, at least it seemed so. This self-pity was getting to him. Whining was never a favorite thing and he didn't fall into the trap often, but Christmas seemed to be the time to do it. When no one cares, no one hears you whine. Problem was that in Mona's Diner, there were three people who cared a lot - Mona, Deuce, and Miss Gracie. He wanted to tell them how much he needed them, but he wouldn't do it. Now that he was a man, things like loneliness and sadness weren't to be shared. Holding it inside was the only thing to do. He'd done it most of his life. There was no need to change now. "Yeah, maybe I'm bad luck."

Gracie went to the door and opened it. "Baby, you are the best luck. I'd be dead if you hadn't pushed me out of the way of that car, but I don't think you're going anywhere for a long time. Nothing is going to move in this storm." Walking shakily back to her booth she smiled, "Certainly not me. I won't be able to see my feet out there."

Al joined Gracie staring out the front. "I'm not even sure I'd see my feet."

Mona served the newcomer his bowl of chili mac and called to her friends, "Looks like we're all going to be here awhile." She turned her attention to the man in the booth. "Would you like some raw onions or cheddar cheese?"

He wasn't the chatty type and he barely grunted, "Yeah."

"Both?"

"Just cheese." Looking at the front door, he grumped, "Damn weather."

Mona tried to make the man feel a little better. "Looks like you'll be here for awhile, but good things can happen at Christmas time here in the diner. Just ask my boy there."

Al looked at the man. Something about him didn't sit right. The guy's eyes cut into Al and made him feel cold - even more than the blowing snow and winds, but he tried smiling. "Yeah, Christmases at Mona's are something you remember for the rest of your life."

The old guy looked annoyed. "Did I ask you?"

The Calavicci temper flared, but he learned to carry an internal extinguisher with him. In the past, he'd ended up fighting for less than what the guy said. It wouldn't have even mattered that the guy was old enough to be his father. Mona wouldn't want him to start anything with the guy. Tucking his short fuse away, Al concentrated on something more pleasant. He put his arm around Gracie. "Are you going to sing for me tonight? I'd love to hear sing again."

"For you, baby, any time."

"Baby? I haven't been a baby since about the day after I was born." It wasn't said with bitterness, just with the knowledge that he didn't have a real childhood. Trouble was that most people only heard the sadness of a child born to melancholy when he spoke like that.

Gracie held onto him and whispered, "You will always be my little boy. I don't care how old you get or how many planes you fly. You're my little boy. Don't ever forget that."

There was no thought to it. He pulled out of her embrace immediately. The sensation wasn't embarrassment. Vulnerability belonged to someone else, not him. "Miss Gracie, I'm no one's little boy."

She kissed his cheek. "So you think, Al, but you'll learn." Holding his hand in both of hers she said, "You belong to so many people and they all belong to you."

Well, it wasn't the first time he'd heard something that made no sense when he was in Mona's Diner and he figured it wouldn't be the last. "Whatever you say, Miss Gracie. You've never lied to me before. Can't see you starting now."

"Go eat more. We'll sing later."

The couple who had been sitting in the booth walked past Al and Gracie determined to make it to the train station regardless of the blinding snows. Al tried to stop them. "You should stay here. It's dangerous to be out in this kind of weather." An introduction seemed appropriate, "My name is Al Calavicci, by the way."

The woman looked up at him. "This is Arthur and I'm Ida Probst." Her smile was exquisite in its reality. "Thank you, Lieutenant, but we have to get to the train station. Our children are expecting us tomorrow and we just have to get to them. I hate the idea of not seeing them. It's not right to be away from your children at Christmas."

Nice to know some parents felt like that. "Maybe I should go with you."

The husband was wrapping a scarf around his neck. "No need, no need at all. We'll be fine."

Al wasn't convinced. "It's alright. I can go with you. It's just a few blocks and I know the way really well." Lying came far too easy to him. Patting his too flat stomach he joked, "A nice walk will help me work off those cheeseburgers." As he took his coat from the rack, he called out to Mona. "I'll want some of that good hot chocolate when I get back."

He bundled his collar up around his ears, pulled his hat as low as he could, gearing up to follow the couple outside.

* * *


	3. Changes

**Alone for Christmas**

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This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to **Christmas Past**. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled **'Twas the Night Before**. That one stands alone! Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all!

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**Alone for Christmas**

**Chapter Three - Changes **

Gracie spoke to Al and the elderly couple as they prepared to walk through the blizzard. "You're not going to get far. Stay and have some hot chocolate. It's on me." The door needed closing. The winds were chilling the room and no one was happy about the encroaching cold.

The guy eating chili mac grumbled incessantly. "I came in this joint to get some food and get out of the snow. Shut the damn door."

Mona sighed a bit. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right."

He looked at her with a lot of anger in his heart. "So close the doors and bring me the cheese you promised."

There was no unkind bone in her body, no ill will toward any soul. Mona figured the man was unhappy with his life and just took it out on everyone around him. She brought him a helping and a half of cheese. Maybe that little bit of extra would take some of the bite out of his mood.

On the other hand, Al didn't like the guy's attitude at all. There was no call to be rude to Mona and he wanted to smack some sense into him, but that was not Mona's way and he respected and loved her too much to do anything to make her feel bad. So, he let the comment go without saying a word to the rude customer. His eyes stayed on the guy as he followed the couple out the door into the storm. "I'll be back soon."

Walking in a snowstorm is daunting to the hardiest trekker, but when the wind is at your back you thank God for small favors. Al found out that Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Probst were on their way home to New York City after visiting her sister in Gary, Indiana. With her husband on one side and Al on the other, the trio let the wind push them toward the train station. Conversation was limited by the rushing snowfall and the effort needed to keep plodding toward the station.

In good weather, Al could cover the five blocks to the station in less than five minutes. With his elderly couple in tow and with the heavens throwing down more flakes than Al thought inhumanly possible, the five minutes turned into 30. They found the station open, but almost completely deserted. "I'm not sure I want to leave you here. Doesn't look like any train is going to be coming along soon."

Mr. Probst smiled. "No need to worry about us, son. We're here, thanks to you, and our train will get here when it gets here. At least we'll be able to board it." A well-worn leather wallet slipped out of his back pocket. "Let me give you something for your trouble."

Holding his hands out in front of him, Al backed away a step. "No, sir, I won't take any money from you. Put your wallet away." Looking around Al continued, "And you should keep that wallet in your inside breast pocket." Speaking from his now embarrassing experiences as Al the Pick, he advised, "It's easy for pickpockets when you carry it where you do."

Clucking like only old people can, he cackled, "Now, I have to do something. You certainly went out of your way for us."

"Please, it's not necessary. All I did was go for a walk."

Mrs. Probst walked up to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You are such a nice young man. I'm sure your mother is very proud of you."

Oh yeah, Mom was so proud. The thought of his mother made his cold bones get colder. "Wouldn't know, ma'am. She . . ." He thought about telling her what happened to him and his baby sister 19 years ago, but he decided to fib. "She died a long time ago." Okay, so he lied, but the truth was so much worse and not the kind of thing he was about to share with strangers no matter how nice they were. The angry little boy in him wanted to tell her that there were mothers in this world that were worthless to their kids and that he envied the Probst children because they lucked out and he hadn't, but he lied again. "Wherever she is, I hope she's proud."

This good mother found a few tears in her eyes for this lost young man. "What mother wouldn't be proud of you? I only wish you were my son."

Kindness in the world was possible, but he didn't see it enough, so when this gentle woman wished, he smiled and returned her sweet kiss. "Thank you, ma'am. That's really nice of you."

Mr. Probst took Al's hand and shook with all his energy. "Now, you take care of yourself. It's going to be harder getting back to Mona's than it was getting here."

No doubt about that at all, but Al barely heard the admonition. He tried to give back to Mr. Probst the five dollar bill the man palmed him. "Sir, please." There was pride at stake and Al finally recognized that Mr. Probst had to do something for Al in return and money was the only thing that came to his mind. "I appreciate this, but it's really not necessary."

"Of course, it isn't, but it is appropriate. It's all I have to give you and I want to give you something for being so kind to us."

Arguing was just going to be a lot of repeated words and Al acquiesced. "Then I thank you. Just so you know, I think I'll donate this to the Salvation Army. They do a lot for men in service. Someday, I may need them."

Mrs. Probst hugged him again. "I hope that day will never come. Stay safe."

After exchanging clumsy good-byes, Al pulled his coat around him again and started back toward Mona's. The wind that blessed him on the walk to the station now cursed his return. He couldn't look forward. Staring at his feet kept the bite of the blizzard out of his eyes and helped him watch his footing. Even without two old folks in tow, it was going to be a longer walk back than he wanted. No use complaining. He just dug his hands farther into his pockets and made his way home to Miss Mona's.

While on his mission to the train station, the diner clientele filtered out of Mona's despite the forecast. Seeing Al and the older couple leaving gave courage to the few who wanted to get home before it got any worse. With Jack long gone, Gracie moved to the counter and sat next to Deuce. Mona pulled a stool across from her friends and sat down behind the counter keeping an eye on the chili mac man who sat in his booth, keeping to himself, eating with an ear bent toward the conversation he was overhearing.

Gracie poured another cup of coffee. "I got to start drinking decaf. No wonder I don't sleep!" She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. "What do you think, Mona?"

"About what?"

Another hot sip passed her lips. "You know about what. Al, of course. What's going on with him this time? That boy is full of sad."

Deuce nodded. "He looks more lost now than he did 19 years ago."

Mona filled her own mug and sighed. "Too much life and not enough living. It's hard being alone at the holidays and I think he's been alone way too much."

Chili mac man grunted just loud enough to be heard, "Like he's the only one."

From where she sat, Mona could tell the man's water glass needed filling. With the pitcher in her hand she walked over to the booth. "He's not the only one. There are a lot of lost souls out there. It's just that he's ours. At least we think of him as ours."

He pushed his finished plate out in front of him. "I want pie. You got pie?"

"Yes, sir. Apple, pumpkin, or chocolate cream - all homemade."

Gracie had to stick her nose into the order. "Now, if you ask me, the pumpkin pie here is the best. It just melts in your mouth."

Chili mac man just couldn't be agreeable. "Then I want chocolate cream."

Smiling at the man that would not be allowed to ruin her spirit, Mona said, "Now, chocolate cream is my favorite!"

Deuce stood up and faced the booth. "And before you make another smart remark, my favorite is apple, okay?"

The line was drawn and chili mac man lost the first round, but before his retreat, he told Mona, "Bring me a piece of that coconut cake and I don't care whose favorite it is."

"Coconut cake, made it fresh a few hours ago." On her way back to the counter, Mona told Deuce, "That tree looks pretty bare."

"Still got your decorations in the back?"

"Yeah." She pulled a set of keys from a hook by the grill. "The box is labeled. I hope the lights still work." A fresh piece of cake was cut and Mona returned to the booth. "And here's your cake, on the house. It's a Christmas present."

While she didn't charge him in order to be thanked, the man said nothing. He wrapped an arm around the plate, hunched over it and ate the dessert without looking up at anyone.

Deuce disappeared through the diner's back door leaving Mona and Gracie to chat about their boy. Gracie, as usual, had more to say. "It's no accident that he's back here today. Something brought him back to you. You know that."

"What can we do for him, Gracie? That child is lost."

"Now, you know even better than I do that no child is ever lost. They may get misplaced on occasion, but never lost."

"Maybe that's what he needs to understand."

"You never know." Looking back at the big picture window up front, Gracie grew concerned. "I pray to God he finds his way in this storm."

"I hope God is listening."

If He was, then He probably heard Al muttering, "What the hell was I thinking?" His coat was covered with a layer of wet snow and the weight was dragging his steps more than he wanted to admit. Shivering from the cold on the back of his neck, he wished he had his long curls back. Military haircuts didn't do anything to keep you warm no matter how low you pulled your cap. By the time he was across the street from the diner, he just wanted warmth and the lure of the hot chocolate got his feet moving faster. The snow was deep enough to hide the slick spots and no more than 15 feet from the front door, he took a spill. Snow fell inside the collar of his coat and the cold was paralyzing. Not wanting to end up like the Little Match Girl, he tried standing up and felt the first warmth he'd felt in nearly 45 minutes. Unfortunately, it came from inside his ankle. He knew a sprain when he felt one. "Damn it!" Standing got harder, but once on his feet he limped toward Mona's and dreaded having to ice down his already cold foot.

The small bells on the door jingled when he got to his destination. With snow dripping from his coat and his face, he looked more like a yeti than a man. Mona flew to him. "My goodness! You must be freezing. Get that coat off you." As his arms wormed their way out of the wool straight jacket she sighed. "Those wet clothes must feel terrible."

"Almost as bad as my ankle. I slipped out there and I think I sprained it."

Mona draped his wet coat on the back of an empty booth. "Your uniform is wet, too. Let's get you sitting down." She put his arm over her shoulder. "Lean on me."

Taking her hand gently, he pulled her arm down. "I'm fine. I can walk without help." While his gait wasn't pretty, he managed to cross the room and sit at the counter finally relaxing. "Miss Gracie, you're not getting home anytime soon. It's treacherous out there."

"Won't be the first time I spent the night here and the company couldn't be better."

Chili mac man couldn't help but overhear. "You mean I'm stuck here?"

Al shook his head, "Mister, unless you're interested in frostbite, I think you're stranded for awhile. I didn't see one car out there."

Mona brought a towel over and started drying his face. "You can't stay in these clothes. Let me see what I can find."

The towel had been near the stove. Even if only a kitchen towel, it felt toasty and plush. Taking it in his shaking fingers, he laughed a little. "No need, Miss Mona. I have a change in my duffle bag. Won't look so military, but at least I'll be dry." Drying his face a bit more he asked, "Can I get another towel or two? And I'll take you up on that hot chocolate." Then with duffle and more towels in hand, Al hobbled his way to the men's room.

After locking the door behind him, he gently removed his shoes taking a lot of care with his right foot. The socks came next and once barefoot, he took stock of the damage. Feeling around the joint, he decided there was no break, just a muscle strain that was going to hurt like hell for a few days. He stripped off the rest of his wet uniform and folded it neatly until he could get some hangers from Miss Mona. The duffle gave him a pair of chinos and a pale blue shirt. It also offered him a pair of sneakers since even his shoes were soaked through. It took only ten minutes for him to settle into his dry clothes and be sitting back at the counter.

Deuce was unpacking boxes of tinsel and Christmas lights. "I hear you fell out there. You okay? I can get you to a hospital if need be."

"For this? No, nothing to worry about." The decorations intrigued Al. His memory held visions of almost every globe that hung on the magic tree he saw spring to Christmas life before his eyes. "You want some help?"

"Stay off that foot, Mr. Military Man." Deuce winked at Al. After all, the Navy needs you in good health."

Mona took his uniform and hung it up near a heating vent. "That should help it dry out, but it's going to need a good pressing." Her pot of milk started boiling over. "Oh, no you don't!" She grabbed it with an oven mitt and put it aside. "It's a little too hot for chocolate right now. I think letting it cool a minute is a good idea, don't you?"

Gracie just sat and stared at Al with the biggest grin. "Now you look like our little boy. When you found us 19 years ago, you were wearing clothes almost exactly like the ones you have on."

It was embarrassing. He knew he had a style, but he couldn't figure out what it was yet. His only hope was that the 60s promised more fashion excitement than the 50s. Other than some bowling shirts with long-legged blondes on the back, nothing that men wore in the 50s was any fun. He opted for an excuse. "On Navy pay, all I can afford is this stuff."

"You look handsome regardless." She noticed a slight wince. "The truth now - how is that ankle?"

"Annoying. It's nothing, Miss Gracie. I've been hurt worse."

The depth of truth in his statement wasn't lost on either woman. Mona poured his hot chocolate. "Just be careful with that. It's still hot. Tell us about Trudy."

Gracie hadn't heard the news yet. "How is that sweet little girl?"

For the third time in one day, he had to tell someone his sister was dead. It had been eight years and in all that time, no one had asked him anything about her. His body stiffened against the emotion. Mona touched his hand, "It's okay to talk about her." He shook his head. "Honey, you got to talk about it. If you don't, it's going to eat at you forever."

It wasn't hard for Gracie to figure it out. "No, please, don't tell me she's dead."

Trying to gain some bravado, he smiled at her, "Okay, I won't tell you."

Deuce dropped the lights and sat on Al's right. "My God, what happened to her?"

Worse than saying Trudy was dead was trying to explain why. "From what I was told, she caught pneumonia and died three days later."

Gracie was still incredulous. "What did the doctors say?"

Whether his feelings were truth or just misunderstandings didn't matter to him. As far as he was concerned, Trudy died from neglect. "I couldn't get into her files. They wouldn't let me see, but no one even knew the name of the doctors that saw her. I have a feeling they didn't call anyone."

Compassionately stroking his hand Mona asked, "Where was she?"

Now his failure as a brother was going to come out. He didn't want anyone to know how he failed the perfection he called sister. "A place called Willowbrook. It's a horrible hole. They didn't do anything for her at all. I don't even think they bathed her. I know she was mentally retarded, but she didn't deserve being there. No one should be there, not in conditions like that."

Being a man, Deuce had guy questions. "How did your father let that happen?"

Everything was just wrong. These shouldn't be the thoughts he had on Christmas Eve. "My father died and she got sent there. I was sent back to the orphanage."

This group didn't know he lived at the orphanage once, let alone twice. Mona wanted more information. "My dad couldn't take care of us and keep a job, so he placed us in an orphanage while he went off to the Middle East to do some construction work. He was gone nearly three years, but when he came back he had a lot of money and he bought us a house." He hated this story. No one really cared. Then he knew that wasn't true here. "I think we lived there a month, maybe less when he ended up in the hospital. He died from a brain tumor about a month later and no one could find his money. We didn't have any relatives that wanted us so we got sent off again, but we were separated. I only saw Trudy about once or twice a year after that. In '53, I thought I could get her out of there and be her guardian, but when I went back, they told me she died like a month earlier. No one bothered to call me."

From the booth, they all heard the outsider talking. "Retards are better off dead."

Al spun around forgetting that he had a bad foot. His quick anger was usually under control except when it came to Trudy. Old instincts to protect her never died, even after she did. His leg crumbled and Deuce caught him before he hit the floor. "Let it go. He doesn't matter."

Mona stepped between Al and the booth. "Deuce is right. What he thinks doesn't matter. We know the truth about Trudy, right?"

"He shouldn't talk about things he doesn't understand."

Just so chili mac man could hear, Mona whispered, "Yes, you're right, but you'll never change a mind like his. Let it go, like Deuce said."

Her helping hand reached out and he took it. The touch of a caring human being strengthened him and he sat down again, willing to try to dismiss the stupidity of the man behind him. "It's just the cold, Miss Mona. I'm still a little cold."

"Then let me get some soup in you. Soup will warm you better than hot chocolate." She wandered behind the counter. "Chicken noodle or navy bean?"

Navy bean? It had to be a joke. "You serious?"

"Would I kid a serviceman?"

"It has to be navy bean." He liked the feel of smiling. "What else would I take?"

Mona served up a bowl of her navy bean soup. "You sure do eat a lot, but I like to see that. You're still a growing boy." The soup and a few packets of crackers were on the counter in front of Al. "Mangia, figlio mio."

The phrase startled Al. She just told him - in Italian yet - to "Eat up, my son." He asked her. "When did you pick up Italian?"

"That's about all I have. Works real well in a restaurant." She snapped her fingers. "You need a grilled cheese. They're nearly as good as my cheeseburgers!"

"Sounds good to me."

He downed the soup and grilled cheese, savoring them and liking the warmth filling his belly and the warmth filling his heart. Mona looked perfect behind the counter. Gracie was perfect just jabbering away about anything that popped into her head. Deuce was stringing the lights on the fresh tree he brought in. It was all perfect. Even with a throbbing ankle and a jerk in the booth behind him, it was all perfect. As the last of the crackers soaked up the last of the broth, he put his spoon down and yawned. Mona didn't miss the exhaustion on his face. "You've had a long day out in that snow. If I recall, you used to like naps."

"I used to be seven, Miss Mona."

"I don't care how old you are. I want you to take a nap and elevate that foot." Pointing to the window, she said, "I think we're having a small Christmas party tonight and you need to be awake for it!"

Deuce added, "The lights are on the tree. You and me can do the rest when you wake up."

Tentatively his ankle tried to support his weight. If he moved slowly, then he could tolerate it. He got to the booth behind the chili mac man, the booth where he and Trudy had napped 19 years earlier. He slipped onto the bench he sat in those years ago and stretched his legs down the length. Leaning his head against the wall, his body relaxed and almost immediately as his eyes shut. He slept and found rest in his heart and mind.


	4. All

**Alone for Christmas**

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This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to **Christmas Past**. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled **'Twas the Night Before**. That one stands alone! Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all!

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**Alone for Christmas **

**Chapter Four - All**

Chili mac man just kept grumbling. At least once a minute, he looked outside again wanting some kind of snow miracle to happen so he could leave this group of Pollyannas. Deuce finally yelled across the room. "What the hell, mister, take a table by the door."

The man sat closer to the door, but not for Deuce's sake. It got him a little more distanced from the quartet he loathed.

Gracie decided to take a nap as well. With her multiple sclerosis, she tired easily even when exciting things happened around her. Not too long after she sat in the chili mac man's vacant booth and joined Al in slumber, Mona took a couple of coats from the lost and found and covered both her charges. Deuce took up his position at the end of the counter and Mona attended to cleaning her grill. The two hours of quiet time rejuvenated everyone.

His eyes fluttered trying to keep the overhead lighting from making his eyes flinch from the brightness. Looking around he saw tranquility in the ordinary. He didn't ever want to leave the diner again. A life like Deuce's looked pretty good to him. The only people surrounding him would be those who cared. Mona noticed her boy wiping sleep from the edge of his eye. It was past seven now. A lot needed saying and this might be the best time. Deuce was involved with a three-day old newspaper. Gracie softly snored and chili mac man, possessed by his inner demons, simply stared.

"So, Al, what brought you back here?"

"It was freaky, Miss Mona." That Halsey recognized him was still making him shake his head in wonderment. "I hadn't planned on being here at all. I was on my way to Chicago."

"Halsey McGinty, what a lovely man."

"I never imagined seeing any of you again. The only one not here is Mrs. Zimmer. How is she?"

It was Mona's turn to tell the bad news. "Honey, Mrs. Zimmer died a few months after your last visit, liver cancer. She was sick at Christmas, but didn't want anyone to know."

Another death. True, he met her only one time, but then he decorated only one Christmas tree in his entire life and he did that with Mrs. Zimmer and with her scarf. "I liked her."

"Most people did. It's easy to like people who devote themselves to making children happy."

His eyes looked down at the floor. "Must be why it's so easy to like you, Miss Mona."

It was time for him to start talking to her. The obvious pain in his heart was so enormous and he needed to tell her. "Sweetheart, you've had a rough go since the last time we were together."

She was being kind and gentle. Miss Mona treated him with tenderness and honesty. That's what made it possible for him to tell his truths. "Yeah, rougher than I would have wanted, but I guess it was meant to be."

"I'm really excited that you're a pilot. You have your wings, now. You can fly."

When he was flying, his world changed from bleak to beautiful. The clouds cushioned the world below him and nothing but the sun and stars were ahead. Peace settled on his face and Mona couldn't help but notice. Her grin embarrassed him a bit. "Yeah, I know. It's the best thing. Nothing ties me down. There is a kind of quiet. I mean the engines make noise, but there's a quiet inside me that I don't have when I'm on land. The only problem is I can't stay there forever. I have to come back to earth and that's when all the trouble starts." His sprained foot hurt, his heart hurt, he didn't know where his life was going and the only people who cared about him were people he hadn't seen in 19 years. The emptiness of his life was cracking the carefully built façade he presented to those who thought him a smart-aleck, wise guy with too much brains and too little self-control. "When I'm flying, it's the only time I feel safe. Miss Mona, it's people I don't understand. Give me an engine, ask me to solve some math equation, make me recite Shakespeare - all that I can do. For some reason, it impresses people, so I let them be impressed with that. The rest of me is worthless."

"There never was and there will never be a time in your life when you are worthless. Things have happened to you that have been hard and you've gotten through them, but getting through the bad times doesn't mean you still aren't hurt by them."

His beautiful eyes looked into hers and pleaded. "How can I make the hurt go away?"

"Baby, hurt doesn't ever really go away. It just changes form into something we can handle."

"I don't have a clue what that means."

"That's because your hurts are still bleeding, but I think maybe you're picking at them so they won't ever stop bleeding."

His breathing got a little tight and slowly shook his head. "I'm supposed to bleed. I'm supposed to always hurt. It's only fair."

Before Mona could say a word, the lights in the diner started to flicker. Everyone's attention flew to the ceiling and within seconds, they were in the dark.

Taking charge in emergencies was a special talent he had, so Al took control. "Okay, no one move. You're safe right now, so stay safe. I'm going to see if it's the diner or if the lights are out all over the place." He carefully stood up and got to the diner doorway. Outside he saw the streetlamps misting the snow and a storefront a few doors down seemed to have its window displays still lit. "Miss Mona, I think it's just your place."

"Oh dear, I was afraid of that." She called out, "Deuce, do you think it's the breaker again?"

From across the dark room Deuce answered, "Probably. You still got that flashlight I give you?"

"At the end of the counter, on the bottom shelf."

They could hear Deuce moving about and then a shaft of light shone around the room. "I'll go see what I can do." The light was pointed toward the back door. "You all do like Al said and stay put. No need in having another one with a bad ankle."

Gracie woke up with the excitement. "Oh, I hope this is a blackout and not me going blind."

Chili mac man didn't help matters. "I kind of wish you'd go dumb so you'd shut up."

That was it. Al would not let the customer treat Miss Gracie like that. He stumbled to the man's table. In a soft, angry voice he asked, "Where are you?"

The man wasn't going to let a kid intimidate him. "Right here, sailor boy." With a cruel low laugh he said, "What the hell do you want?"

Al had seen evil in his life, known evil, been consumed by it. So when the man spoke he recognized that he was in its presence again. "You need to remember your manners. It's Christmas Eve and no one here has done anything to bother you. Now, I expect you to either lose the attitude or shut up or leave. Take your pick, but don't harass these people. Understand?"

The low laugh sounded again. "Go away."

Mona heard it all and called to Al. "Come back, sweetie. You need to stay off that foot."

The lights flashed once, then again and finally came on full. Al was still at the man's table. In the light, the face looked more empty of kindness than Al could imagine. When his eyes locked with the man, a pall covered him. There was nothing inside chili mac man's soul. It was a vacant thing. Al filled with fear and sorrow. He felt like he was seeing himself 30 years down the line. It wasn't a good feeling. "Let's start all over again, okay? Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, wait tables. That's about all you're good for."

Al clenched his fest and walked back toward people he knew had hearts. The coffee could have been hotter, but he really didn't care.

Deuce came back into the diner. "Breaker switch. That's all. I think it was the Christmas lights that done it."

Al looked to the side and the tree lit up with colored lights. He hadn't seen anyone go near it and now it had lights. Whispering to the magic he said, "It's happening again."

After pouring a cup of coffee, Al sat next to Deuce at the counter. It was time for guy talk and Deuce started with, "Yeah, I did some wiring for Mona and all that needs to happen is for one little light bulb to be in the wrong place and the whole thing blows. I got to get in there fix it up."

Chili mac man had to make his ugly comments. "That what you get for hiring an idiot to do real work. You get what you pay for."

While he wanted to go and deck the guy, the glowing Christmas tree and more guy talk demanded Al's attention. He told Deuce, "I'm pretty good at wiring. Maybe we can take a look at it later."

Gracie made her way toward her friends. "You got the ornaments there?"

A small box sat near the tree. Mona opened it and pulled out a scarf. "Now, how did this get in there? I don't remember any scarf being in the box last year."

Al moved toward the tree now staring at the scarf. "That's Mrs. Zimmer's. That's the scarf she had me put on the tree when I was a kid." He took it in his hands and brought it to his face to smell the cologne that was still there. "This was the first thing I ever put on a Christmas tree." Just as he had 19 years earlier, he laid the scarf across the branches and smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Zimmer."

The moment was too important in his life to have the chili mac man butt his way in even if the guy had to start. "Isn't that sweet? Shit, you're a grown man and it's a damned tree. Grow up."

They all chose to ignore the comments. They were coming faster now and meant to hurt. This was no time to hurt. Mona took Al's hand. "We have some unfinished conversation to tend to." She brought him as far away from the chili mac man as she could. "We don't need him eavesdropping, do we."

The guy didn't like being ignored and he made it known. "Yeah, sit over there. At least one thing will go right tonight. I won't have to listen to you."

Deuce was about at the end of his rope. "Just can it, mister. No one wants to listen to you either, so just keep your trap shut."

Mona kept Al moving away from the noise. "Don't bother with that, sweetie. Talk to me." They were back at the far table. She sat so Al's back was to the chili mac man. There was no need for that kind of negative energy to take strength from her boy. She asked him, "Why do you think you deserve to hurt?"

Counting all the reasons was an endless task. There were too many. Sharing with this true friend would hurt her and he didn't want to do that. Answering had to be avoided. "I was talking stupid. That's all. Don't pay any mind to how I rant."

"You must feel like everyone's deserted you." She didn't like the idea that her surly customer was obviously listening in to what Al had to say, but it was more important that Al talk and less important that someone wanted to nose round.

"Deserted me? No, it was their misfortune. They got saddled with me and it ended up bad every time. It's my fault."

"How can that be? It's not your fault your mother ran out on you. It's not your fault you father died of cancer. It is not your fault that Trudy died of pneumonia."

Chili mac man was listening hard, looking for ammunition to cut Al down to size. Mona watched him lean toward their table wanting to know more.

It was time to tell the truth. His heart pounded in his chest and he desperately wanted forgiveness. "I told her it would be okay."

"Told who what?"

"Told Trudy she'd be safe." His voice was quiet and grief-stricken. "When our mother walked out on us, I said I'd take care of her. She trusted me and I failed her."

"Never. You would never fail Trudy."

His fists were clenching again and the pain in his ankle felt well-deserved. "What would you call it? I snuck her onto a train to try and find my father who was somewhere west of New York City. How ridiculous is that?"

The truth in her eyes was very different. "If you hadn't left New York that day, you never would have made it here. It was the best decision you could have made."

"I can't tell you how many times she asked, 'Where's Mama? Where's Mama?' and I had nothing to tell her. She didn't understand that our mother ran off with some pig, that she could not have cared any less for us if she tried. Trudy loved everyone. She just assumed everyone loved her. I couldn't make her the world she deserved."

Each night for the 19 years it took for Al to get back to her, Mona prayed that he would have peace in his heart and come to understand how special he was and how much the world needed people like him. She prayed he would finally understand that and now she was saddened because her prayers had not been answered. "Al, your mother walked away from two of the most perfect children God ever created. Why she did that is beyond me. Some kind of evil had to possess her, but whatever the reason, she left you and Trudy. Nothing will change that. Holding onto to that pain isn't going to hurt your mother. It's only going to eat away at your soul."

Behind them, chili mac man chuckled deep in his throat, an ugly sound too soft to hear.

A buzzing in his ear told Al that Mona was talking, but he heard none of it. The story wasn't over. "A few weeks after you took care of us, my dad left us at the orphanage. Trudy was so scared. She didn't have a clue what was happening. She saw Dad leaving and thought it was like when Mom left us." His hand covered his eyes. "She cried and I couldn't stop her. Trudy fell asleep that first night crying. I made a vow to her that she would always be happy."

Mona leaned her head on his shoulder. "That's not a promise you can make. You were a little boy and you didn't know better. You can't hold a little boy to something like that."

"But no one else was going to take care of her. I loved my father. He was good to us when he was home, but he left Trudy and me at the orphanage and I know it's not his fault, but then he had to go and die. It was my job to take care of her and she's dead. It's my fault."

"How could it be your fault?"

No one heard chili mac man whisper, "Tell her how it's all your fault, moron boy."

His heart pounded so hard he thought he heard it echo through the diner. "My mother left us. It couldn't have been because of Trudy. She loved everyone. I was the one people complained about. I was the troublemaker. The teachers, the people in our building, everyone kept saying I was no good. My mother ran away, but she ran away from me, and Trudy paid for that with her life. When it comes to loving people, I can't do anything right. I don't want to love anyone again. I'll end up ruining their lives. I can't do it. I have to be alone. I can't love anyone again. I just can't."

The entire diner hushed. Deuce and Gracie made no bones about their eavesdropping. The singer took the mechanic's hand and held on hoping to gather strength to listen her boy's anguish. In between them and Al, Chili mac man watched with a grin.

Mona took Al's face in her hands. She peered into his soul. "You listen to me. Your best thing is loving people. I know how smart you are, how talented and strong and determined, but all of that is nothing to how well you love people. Trudy's life would have been hell without you. Every day she was apart from you, she had the hope you'd come back. Without that hope, without that dream, she would have died with an empty spirit. She had your love and she always knew that."

"I failed her. She depended on me and I failed." The tears he kept inside for over eight years started to find their way down his face. It was a sign of weakness that he hated. His own rough hand rubbed them away and he sucked in all the pain he was so close to letting fly away. "I failed her. I failed my mother. I failed my father. I just can't see it any other way."

"You have to. You absolutely have to. There is peace for you, but you're one of those who have to work harder for it. It doesn't seem fair, but fairness can be hard to come by. Peace of heart and mind is worth it though, Al."

A stone coldness stiffened his posture and the barriers he developed for so long came back with a vengeance. "There will never be peace for me. I don't have that right. I just have to learn to live knowing God has chosen to make me His little private joke."

Gracie stood up and started walking slowly toward Al. She sang out the powerful words, "And in despair, I bowed my head. 'There is no peace on earth,' I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Al hoped that he could maybe stop breathing altogether and it could all be over, but these people loved him and they weren't going to let him off the hook. "Miss Gracie, please don't. There's no peace for me. There never will be."

She paid no attention to his petition. Her stride and her voice grew stronger. "Then pealed the bells more loud and deep. God is not dead nor does he sleep. The wrong shall fail. The right prevail with peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Chili mac man stood up and yelled, "Shut up! Can't you keep your mouth shut for five minutes?"

Ankle or no ankle, even if it was Christmas Eve, the guy crossed the line for the last time. Al reached him in half a second and he pulled his enemy onto the floor, straddling him, poised and wanting to hurt him. "Don't talk to her like that. She has more right to be here than you do!" He held a fist in front of the guy's face. "Be grateful that Miss Mona and Miss Gracie are here. If they weren't, you'd be feeling this."

The guy wasn't a match for the young pilot and he knew it. He could only win with words. "You're pathetic. You always were." The hitch in Al's breath told the man he hit a nerve. "Yeah, you were an ungrateful brat and you grew up to be a simpering fool like your old man."

Al moved off the man, standing over him, staring down at the insignificance lying on the floor. "You don't know me and you don't know my father."

Without a 27-year-old sitting on his chest, the man was able to stand up. "Yeah, well, I never met him, but Vince Calavicci was about as worthless as you."

Deuce walked to Al's side to stand with him against this guy, whoever he was. "Mister, it's time for you to shut up, not Gracie. Why don't you just get out of here."

Chili mac man kept pushing buttons. "Your mother slept with anyone who wore pants."

Deuce started to dive toward the guy. Al stopped him before he took two steps. "Deuce, this is my fight, not yours."

"It's no one's fight." Mona stepped between the man and her friends. "This isn't the way it's supposed to be. It's Christmas Eve. If you can't respect each other, then at least respect the day. I won't have this in my diner!"

His love for Miss Mona relaxed his shoulders and he fell out of his fighting stance. "I'm sorry."

The man wasn't going to let it stop. "Yeah, you are sorry. So was that retard sister of yours. You think your mother ran away because of you. Guess what! She hated Trudy even more than she hated you."

Keeping his cool was getting hard again. "Who are you?"

Mona started shaking her head hoping this man wasn't who she thought he was. "Sir, you have to leave."

Ignoring the request, he stared at Al and just kept going. "I'm the man who just got out of jail for killing your mother. I'm out of prison two days and I get stuck in a greasy diner with her spawn."

Al approached the man, his limp getting more pronounced, so tired of soul that he felt seven-years-old again. "You're the pig she ran off with."

He wasn't going to back down. "Your mother told me that you and your sister were obnoxious, ugly and a waste of time. Leaving you was the easiest thing she ever did."

The silence felt like the calm before an avalanche with everyone poised for a catastrophe, not knowing how to escape it. Deuce found a voice first. "You killed his mother?"

"I told you before, involuntary manslaughter, idiot. At least that's what the jury convicted me for. None of them knew the truth." His grating laugh added, "She got on my nerves."

Holding in his rage and profound grief, he reiterated Mona's request. "You need to leave now."

"Yeah, your mom was good. All my friends said so." Sitting back down and looking smug as the fallen angel he gave it one more shot. "Always thought I should have brought the retard along with us. She probably would have been popular with the guys, too." The goading wouldn't stop. "Yeah, retardo would have done good work."

Al hurled his body at the source of all his grief. The second blow to the guy's face splattered blood from a broken nose. Mona, Deuce and Gracie all tried to separate them, but Al was intent on killing the man whose unconscionable morality instigated the long years of grief he endured. The blame for everything bad in his life was under his hands and his hands were around the guy's neck. A raspy gurgle was all that sounded out from the man. Mona pulled Al's shoulders back, but she didn't have the strength to fight his fury. Deuce was trying to keep Al from fracturing the guy's larynx. Gracie stood by knowing she was too physically weak to do any good, so she remained at the side crying for her boy and all his terrifying self-hate. The lights began to flicker again, but Al stayed his course. Rhythmically he pushed on the man's airway. "This is for Trudy." He mashed down again. "This one is for her, too!" His thumbs pressed on the guy's Adam's apple. "This one is for me!" Then he stopped talking and just choked.

The lights flashed off just as Al heard, "Allie, no, no, no! Allie, no!"

He turned toward the sound, toward the Christmas tree. In the murky shadows, a little girl held out her arms, her face filled with fear, and tears streaming from her differently-shaped eyes. The evil under his hands didn't deserve to take her from him again. "Trudy!"

"Allie, no!"

He spent no time questioning how she got there. His leg twisted under him as he tried to get to the miracle apparition. "It's okay, honey. It's okay." When he reached his baby sister, he took her in his arms and held her so closely. "Baby, are you real?"

"Trudy love Allie. Trudy love Allie. Allie no fight."

Mona and Deuce stood back and watched the reunion. Gracie did what she does and sang, "Some children see Him lily white, the baby Jesus born this night. Some children see him lily white with tresses soft and fair."

There was no stopping Al's tears now. He had her back. She fit in his arms perfectly. This little piece of flawlessness hugged him and wanting to comfort as much as be comforted.

"Some children see Him bronzed and brown, the Lord of Heaven to earth come down. Some children see Him bronzed and brown, with dark and heavy hair."

Al sat on the floor and pulled Trudy onto his lap. "I'm so sorry, little one. I didn't mean to leave you there. I really did try to get you."

"Trudy love Allie. Allie love Trudy."

"Some children see Him almond-eyed, this Savior whom we kneel beside. Some children see Him almond-eyed with skin of golden hue."

The Navy pilot rocked his little sister and cried. "You should have had a happy life. It wasn't right what happened to you."

"Some children see Him dark as they, sweet Mary's son to whom we pray. Some children see Him dark as they and, oh! they love Him too."

"Trudy love Allie. Trudy happy. Trudy happy."

The lights flickered sending a soft glow throughout the room. "I wish I could believe you, Trudy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"Trudy happy. Trudy want Allie happy! Allie be happy."

"The children in each different place will see the baby Jesus' face like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace and filled with holy light."

"I miss you so much. You're the only one who ever loved me. No one will love me again." He straightened her hair and her favorite pink bow.

She shook her sweet head, "Allie be happy. Allie no cry for Trudy. Allie no cry."

Despite her plea, Al gave into the hurt in his soul and finally allowed himself the privilege of mourning the loss of the most right thing he ever had in his life. "Don't leave me. You can't leave me again."

"Trudy go away. Allie be happy. Trudy love Allie. Trudy love Allie."

"O lay aside each earthly thing and with thy heart as offering, come worship now the infant King. 'Tis love that born tonight."

A wind blew through the diner. The lights returned and the man was gone. The bells on the door hadn't rung and nobody heard or saw him exit. Al got to his feet and grimaced with the pain. The ankle needed attending, but with the snow, it wasn't going to happen soon and even if it could, Trudy was here and he wouldn't leave. Peering out the front door Al saw not one person. He gazed at the snow-covered ground and saw no footsteps. "Where is he?"

Mona came to his side. "I don't know. I didn't see him leave, but I'm glad he did. Are you alright, Al?"

He embraced Mona, shaking with fear and sorrow and supreme joy. Trudy was with him again. "How did you do this?"

"I think you did it all by yourself."

In 1941, Trudy delighted in the beautiful Christmas tree at Mona's, especially when a special light appeared. Now, she was squealing with delight again. A mysterious golden star materialized at the top of the tree. "Look! Star! Look!"

The ankle was worse and the pain of walking back to Trudy showed on his face. "It's a miracle, Trudy. Miracles happen at Miss Mona's." He dropped to one knee on the floor next to her. "I love you so much." His hand tentatively rubbed the sprain.

Her little face looked so very sad. "Allie booboo." Leaning down, she kissed the sore ankle.

"Trudy, my shoe is dirty. Don't kiss my shoe."

She didn't listen to him. Her goal was simple. "Trudy love Allie. Trudy kiss booboo. Make booboo go way."

The pain faded and he felt healing pulse through his leg. He held her again. "It's all better now, Trudy. You made everything all better. I have you again. It's all better."

Mona sat down next to him. "Honey, do you really think she's going to be able to stay?"

The little sister he loved was in his arms. It was Christmas Eve. Mona's Diner brought miracles. "Why not? She's here now."

Trudy crawled out of his arms and touched the tree. "Pretty."

Big brother smiled. "The tree is pretty, just like you."

She looked at her "Allie" and smiled. Her tiny arms engulfed him. "Trudy go bye-bye."

"You can't leave me again. You can't!"

Patting his chest tenderly she told him, "Allie be happy. Trudy go bye-bye."

He reached out to hold her again and his arms went through empty air. She was gone. Mona put her arms around Al as he cried in a way he had never cried before, sobbing, "What am I going to do? No one will ever love me like that again."

Gracie started softly again, "The children in each different place will see the baby Jesus' face like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace and filled with holy light."

"Trudy loved you. Now you have to let other people love you, too."

More mumbo jumbo that made little sense. "I don't know, Miss Mona. I'm a bad seed."

Her tears started, but they were reflections of the pain in his heart. "There's no such thing. You're not anything bad at all. Just believe in Trudy and what she taught you." He heard, but didn't understand. "Trudy knew love better than anyone. Remember that and she loved you more than anyone else in the world."

Mona's love gave him Trudy if only for a few minutes. He wasn't convinced completely, but he had to know if he was on the right track. "It's okay, then? I don't have to be afraid to love someone?"

The question brought more tears to her eyes. She held onto him, cradling his tired body. This grown man asked his question with the tenuous hope of a lost child. "Never be afraid to love. It won't always be easy and sometimes it will make you sad, but it's the only thing that makes life worth living."

"O lay aside each earthly thing and with thy heart as offering, come worship now the infant King. 'Tis love that born tonight."

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**I Heard the Bells** by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  
**Some Children See Him** © Alfred Burt and Wihla Hutson 


	5. Epilogue 1995

**Alone for Christmas**

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This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author. 

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

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**Alone for Christmas**

**Epilogue - 1995 **

It had been 35 years since he last held Trudy on that miracle night and ten years since the Admiral last saw the diner. On that trip, he brought the best friend he had, Sam Beckett. That was when he explained the first miracle that happened at Mona's Diner, the one when he was only seven, and he left it at that. The second miracle Christmas was still only his. No one else knew except for Miss Mona, Miss Gracie, and Deuce. The agony of the knowledge he gained that day darkened his heart, but then the glory of holding Trudy just one more time allowed him to sail the skies without the aid of an airplane.

Now he stood in the doorway of Mona's Diner once more. He saw what he dreaded seeing, his safest haven decimated by fire. The door was non-existent, so he walked in unobstructed. The emptiness saddened him beyond understanding and compounded the deep sorrow in his soul. The room was too quiet. "Miss Gracie, I need you to sing for me again." His fingers ran along the charred edges of the counter. "Still can't find a cheeseburger anywhere as good as yours, Miss Mona." Two lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling by wires that didn't look strong enough to hold up a piece of paper. With a laugh he said, "You should have let me help you with the electrical, Deuce. It's a wonder the place didn't burn down years ago."

The finality, the demise of his rescue station cut deeply. No more safe havens existed for Al Calavicci. He did what Miss Mona and Trudy tried to teach him. He loved. It made him feel alive and whole, but the melancholy part of it was hard. His wife left him thinking he was dead. Now, his best friend was lost in time with no real hope of coming home.

Too many dark thoughts. It was Christmas and he was in the place that held the most profound memories of the holiday for him. His was a soul that needed a partner and he was profoundly missing that. "It isn't right. This place should always . . . be. I know I'm not the only one whose life changed here."

He walked to the booth that held his first set of miracles. Half the table was missing and the seats showed open springs with most of the upholstery gone. "Sam found my book here."

"I found a guitar, too." He walked around the room a little. "Too bad about the diner. I know it means a lot to you."

His legs went rubber and he nearly fell. Turning he saw his friend. "Sam, are you home? Please tell me you're home."

Sam stood across the room. "Sorry, Al."

Seeing his friend electrified him with hope and as quickly as hope appeared, it vanished. "You got to come home, Sam. I can't do this much longer."

"It's getting rougher for you all the time, isn't it?" Without a nod or a word, Al answered the question. "I don't know what to do, Al. I want to come back."

Looking at the burned relic around him Al said, "There comes a time when you can't come back any more. Like here. I thought I'd always have the diner to come back to, but it's gone now. It's gone and you're gone and Beth is gone."

"You aren't losing hope on me, are you? I can't do this without you, Al."

"Then don't do it. Come home."

Sam walked to his friend's side. "Our work isn't done. You know that better than I do. You're the one who keeps pushing me to finish each leap."

"It wouldn't be the first time I was wrong." Ghost images flooded his memory and then decorations started filling the walls. The smell of hot chocolate rose and made him smile. Realizing his new miracle, he looked back at Sam. "I'm feeling sorry for myself and I didn't even notice that she did it again."

"Who did what?"

He brushed off a dirty counter stool and sat down. "You're here and it's not a leap, right?"

The thought hadn't occurred to him, but he had to agree. He parked himself next to Al. "I don't know. I just was here."

The surrealism needed testing. Al pulled at the fringe on the scarf Sam had around his neck. He could touch it. It was real. "You're wearing Mrs. Zimmer's scarf." The diner continued its metamorphosis and soon Al and Sam saw nothing of burned tables and chairs. Color returned to the place and it was warm and comforting. Then the room exploded in a flash of light and both men instinctively knew where to look. The tree, it was splendidly there. The Admiral smiled at his buddy, "I think the miracle this time is for both of us." They embraced, two dear friends for whom time was a blessed companion and a daunting enemy.

But they were guys and guys didn't do mushy stuff. It was time to swagger like the real men they were and they did, ending up by the beautiful tree and gazing into the brightly colored decorations. "I wish I could have met Miss Mona, Al."

"She would have loved you, but then she loved everyone. My sister was like that too." He started walking around the tree, taking in all the glory when his foot bumped against a box, all wrapped up in gold with a red bow on top. A small card on top read "For Al and Sam."

Sam saw his friend's eyes grow huge. "What's wrong?"

The inexplicable always happened at Mona's. Nothing should surprise him, but this did. "Looks like Santa left a gift for the two of us." He picked the box up from the floor and took it to his and Trudy's booth. Sam sat across from him looking like a six-year-old school boy who knew he was on the Nice List.. Al loved that Sam could still be a child when confronted with Christmas presents. The Admiral told him, "You open it." He slid the box toward the younger man.

Now, Al meticulously unwrapped gifts, savoring the colors of the paper, the design, the mystery they concealed, but Sam was more direct. He wanted the insides, so ribbons were torn and paper flew. Pulling the top off the box, he found an envelope. "Well, I guess this is it." Sam handed it to Al. "This one is yours to open."

A few deep breaths helped him regain his composure. After all, he didn't want Sam to see his hands shaking. Al opened the envelope and unfolded the slip of paper inside. The tension needed releasing. "This better be pretty deep." Then he winked. "I mean, when stuff like this happens you're supposed to discover the meaning of life, aren't you?"

"That would be nice." Sam waved his hand. "Read, come on!"

"'Dear Al and Sam, I knew you'd both be back. It is so satisfying to see how you have kept your promises to each other. I'm proud of you both. Sam, home is not a place you visit. Home is any time your heart is content. And Al, don't forget Gracie's song.'" He put the paper down. "That's it."

"Not quite the meaning of life." Sam was confused. "What did she mean by 'don't forget Gracie's song'?"

His gravely voice wouldn't attempt to sing, but he'd heard the song often enough to know the power of the words. "O lay aside each earthly thing, and with thy heart as offering, come worship now the Infant King." 'Tis love that's born tonight!"

"I always liked that song." Sam knew he wasn't going to be there much longer. "Al, we only have a few more seconds. I have too much to tell you."

"You don't need to, kid. I know."

"I do, too, Al. Not sure I ever told you that, but I know." Then there was no more Sam and the diner began to turn back into the burnt shell of memory. The guitar faded away, the tree began to disappear.

All alone again in this most mystical place, Al folded up his note and placed it in the pocket over his heart. He didn't want to leave, but there was no other choice. With his hand on the diner's door, he called out, "Merry Christmas, Miss Mona. I love you. Thank you for everything. Without you, I'm not sure what would have become of me. Take care, be well, rest well. I don't know if I'll ever get back here again." Before his words started sounding more stupid, he made his way to the street.

He didn't hear Miss Mona softly, gently tell him, "You don't need to come to my diner any more, Al. 'Tis love that's born tonight."

* * *

**_MERRY CHRISTMAS and May the Blessing of the Season be Yours!!_**

* * *

**Some Children See Him **© Alfred Burt and Wilha Hutson**_  
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